Bend Until You Break
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Post-ep for Minimal Loss. Everyone has limits. When Emily Prentiss finally reaches hers, can Rossi help her before she snaps. THREESHOT
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: First of all, we have exciting news, my friends! Nominating ballots for "The Profiler's Choice Awards" are ready and waiting for you at the "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. So please, everyone, come on over and name some of your favorite fics and authors. Lets honor our favorite stories and authors on the site! We want to hear from you. Rules and guidelines are also available at the forum and as always, tonnie2001969 and I would be delighted to answer any questions that you may have. **

**For anyone willing to help us advertise the awards, we've created a short author's note template available on both my profile page (ilovetvalot) and my co-author's (tonnie2001969). We'd love to have everybody's help making this venture a huge and fun success. Please feel free to copy and paste it into your own author's notes and/or profiles! With your help, I believe this can become an annual event that we ALL look forward to seeing. I hope that you're all as eager as I am to see this incredible project lift off. And a very BIG thanks to all the authors helping us advertise these awards! We truly appreciate any assistance you can provide.**

**We also have a new interview for you at the forum with the incredibly talented kdzl. Please join us as we get to know her.**

**Finally, we've added a new discussion thread that will hopefully become a useful resource for everyone at the forum called, "Finding a Beta on Chit Chat on Author's Corner". If you'd like to advertise your beta skills and make yourself available to other authors, please come sign up. We'd love to hear from you!**

* * *

**Bend Until You Break**

**Chapter One**

The three men sat at the wooden booth in the corner of the ubiquitous bar of the generic hotel they were staying at. Their shoulders slumped in defeat, each lost in their own thoughts.

Thoughts that would haunt their dreams for numerous nights to come.

There'd been no winners today; not when one of their own had suffered through a brutal beating, at the very least. There was no sense of victory in that, despite the fact that their unsub now resided in hell where he had long belonged.

"I know what Prentiss told JJ," Morgan muttered, his hand clenching around the long neck bottle he held in the palm of his hand, his fingers peeling the label in jerky motions, "but, I still say that one of us needs to go up and check on her. There's no way she's up their just sleeping the trauma away, guys."

"You volunteering?" Hotch grunted, his eyes trained on the untouched neat whiskey in front of him, unable to stop staring at the glimmering liquid.

"Hell, no," Morgan mumbled, no malice in his voice. "She outshot me last month on the range, man. I'm not a big believer in taking those kinds of risks. But, I still say one of us should go make sure she's okay. Draw straws?" he suggested, looking hopefully between the other two men's lined faces.

"I'm the Unit Chief," Hotch sighed, pushing his glass toward the center of the table, his fingerprints evident against the otherwise pristine glass.

"No," David Rossi shook his head softly, a sigh in his voice. "I'll go. You have a son," he said with a crooked grin at Hotch, no humor seeping into his words. "I've got three ex-wives. I oughta be bullet proof by now," he said with a shrug, picking up his glass and draining the last of his scotch with one quick swallow. "Besides, with that sprained shoulder she's sporting, I doubt she could get a shot off so quick that I couldn't duck."

"Dave," Hotch warned softly, turning to face the older man. "Go lightly. I've got a feeling we don't know everything that happened inside Cyrus's compound."

"And I seriously doubt we ever will," Morgan added solemnly, sighing heavily as he scrubbed a hand down his face. "God knows, I doubt Emily will ever tell us. Especially if..." he trailed off, his eyes saying everything he couldn't force his lips to speak.

Swallowing past the bile rising in his throat at the image Morgan's words elicited, Rossi nodded. "I'll go easy," he assured the other two men, his tone solemn. And he would. But first, before he could deal with Emily, he had to regain control of his own faltering emotions.

* * *

Grimacing as she forced herself to look into the steamed mirror inside the small utilitarian bathroom the hotel offered, Emily wanted to scream. Bruises, scrapes, and more than one handprint still marred her creamy skin, a glaring reminder of the past forty-eight hours. As if she needed a mark to remember. No, those long hours inside Cyrus' cult were going to be forever ingrained in her mind.

Some things could not be forgotten, no matter how hard one tried.

Licking her lips, she jerkily reached for her toothbrush again. She knew it was her imagination. There was no way she could still be tasting that overly sweet wine that had been on his tongue when he'd shoved her against the wall, pushing his mouth against hers. It was just a memory. A really horrible memory. It didn't change the fact that she reached for the tube of Crest toothpaste, though.

Staring at herself as she brushed her teeth for the sixth time since returning to the hotel room, she shivered. Flashes of what had transpired in the last two days taunted her, pulling goose bumps to the surface of her skin.

It was over, she reminded herself. And more importantly, she'd survived. Others hadn't. And she'd managed to make it out of that literal hell alive without breaking, never once begging for a mercy she'd known instinctually that Cyrus would never provide. She'd steadfastly refused to give him that kind of power over her. She'd meant what she'd said over twelve hours ago.

She could take it.

And she had. Over and over again.

She was lucky. Lucky to be alive. Lucky that she'd kept her fortitude and courage intact. Lucky the team never had to know everything she'd suffered inside that miserable hole. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them…or her…again.

She knew each of them had their suspicions, their profiling instincts well honed. But suspicions were nothing without verification and she had no intention of delivering that. No. Never.

Acknowledging the horror didn't lessen it…in her world, it only made it worse.

Aside from obviously traumatizing Reid even further than he already was, it would serve no purpose. The monster had already been slain. Cyrus wouldn't be any deader if she divulged the details of her captivity.

Nothing would change. Other than the way in which people perceived her.

And she'd worked for years to overcome that image of the weak helpless female, she silently snarled to herself as she rinsed her toothbrush, tossing it back in her cosmetics bag with a flick of her wrist.

No, her way was better. It had to be. She'd been dealing with inner demons all her life. After all these years, what was one more black mark against her soul? Confirming her teammates' suspicions would be pointless and she'd always prided herself on being a practical woman, no matter the circumstance.

Gingerly slipping her robe over her bruised body, Emily belted the sash with quick efficient movement, ignoring the pulling muscles demanding to be treated. Keeping her eyes on her battered reflection, she spoke to the mirror firmly. "You can do this, Prentiss. The hard part is already done. You lived and he died. He paid. Let it go."

"Let it go?" a voice in her mind screamed back, the shrill shriek bounding through her already battered head. "He raped you! He put his filthy hands on you, pinned you to the floor and stole from you! How do you let THAT go!"

Shaking her head furiously as she tried desperately to quell the tiny, hurt voice in her mind, she felt tears stinging her eyes. "No!" she said hoarsely to the face staring back at her in the mirror. "You aren't allowed to cry! Not when eleven kids died today at the hands of a madman! Your suffering was NOTHING compared to theirs," she hissed to herself, demanding obedience from her tortured soul.

Shivering as the central air kicked on overhead, washing her body in an icy blast, Emily forced herself to inhale deeply, the frigid air burning her lungs, reminding her that she was alive. She'd promised JJ that she'd rest, but the idea of crawling into the queen size bed in the nearby room, alone in the dark, was more than she was ready to contemplate. But the shadows beneath her eyes gave away her exhaustion, and, working with a bunch of profilers, her lack of sleep would be obvious to them as well, thus, giving her away.

So with leaden footsteps, she made her way toward the waiting bed, knowing with every step that her nightmares were patiently awaiting her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: First of all, we have exciting news, my friends! Nominating ballots for "The Profiler's Choice Awards" are ready and waiting for you at the "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. So please, everyone, come on over and name some of your favorite fics and authors. Lets honor our favorite stories and authors on the site! We want to hear from you. Rules and guidelines are also available at the forum and as always, tonnie2001969 and I would be delighted to answer any questions that you may have. Now, let's get nominating! **

**For anyone willing to help us advertise the awards, we've created a short author's note template available on both my profile page (ilovetvalot) and my co-author's (tonnie2001969). We'd love to have everybody's help making this venture a huge and fun success. Please feel free to copy and paste it into your own author's notes and/or profiles! With your help, I believe this can become an annual event that we ALL look forward to seeing. I hope that you're all as eager as I am to see this incredible project lift off. And a very BIG thanks to all the authors helping us advertise these awards! We truly appreciate any assistance you can provide.**

**We also have a new interview for you at the forum with the incredibly talented kdzl. Please join us as we get to know her.**

**Finally, we've added a new discussion thread that will hopefully become a useful resource for everyone at the forum called, "Finding a Beta on Chit Chat on Author's Corner". If you'd like to advertise your beta skills and make yourself available to other authors, please come sign up. We'd love to hear from you!**

* * *

**Bend Until You Break**

**Chapter Two**

He decided to take the long way to Emily's room, opting for the stairs rather than the elevator. In additional to the physical exertion that would help clear his mind, he also needed time. Time to get past the fear...the anger...the unfairness of this entire fucked up debacle their case had turned into.

Christ, he'd forgotten what it felt like to be terrified. And from the moment that she'd been taken hostage, terror was all he'd known. Each passing moment had brought a new horror to his senses. Hearing the beatings she'd endured. Knowing that somehow she'd resisted giving the bastard who'd touched her the satisfaction of one scream. Comprehending somewhere deep in his soul that so much more violence had been visited on her than a mere ass-kicking despite her verbal denial to the contrary at the hospital.

No, he thought morosely, scrubbing his hand over his whiskered jaw. He had a pretty accurate idea of what had transpired inside that damn bastard's compound. And he didn't really need Emily's confirmation to be certain of it. That hollow look in her eyes told him everything he needed.

And if Cyrus hadn't already been dead, David Rossi would have signed his death warrant on that basis alone.

What Dave didn't understand was his own reaction to that knowledge. Colleagues before had suffered far worse atrocities.

But, damn it, Prentiss was different.

While entirely qualified and capable, there was a vulnerability about her that he'd noticed from his first day back at the BAU. A shyness and innocence...an awkwardness that, while repellent in other women, he'd found endearing in her. And the idea that a man...any man...could take what she was unwilling to give infuriated him more than he'd ever thought he was capable of.

But that anger would have to wait, he thought sternly as he approached Emily's door. There would be time enough once they all got safely back to DC to analyze those feelings in the privacy of his own home. For now, he had a teammate that was, at the least, in physical pain. He didn't want to think too closely about the worst case scenario. He'd lose his mind if he did. And that wouldn't help Emily at all.

Lifting his hand to knock against the door in front of him lightly lest she was actually sleeping, he only had to wait a moment before she appeared, her eyes alert and wary.

"Rossi," she greeted him huskily, swallowing hard against the sudden effort of speaking. "I take it that you drew the short straw," she theorized, opening the door wider and gesturing him inside.

"Actually," he said quietly as he slipped past her, careful not to enter her private space, "I volunteered." Waiting as she closed the door, he remained silent as she turned to face him, her eyes shadowed with pain...with disillusionment. Damn, those shattered doe eyes made him want to punch the nearest wall.

But he didn't. Emily Prentiss had experienced enough violence to last for three lifetimes. There was no way he'd voluntarily add to her pain.

Seeing his dark, concerned eyes zoning in on her, taking in every aspect of her appearance, inward and outward, Emily shifted uneasily on her feet. "I'm fine, Rossi," she said, keeping her voice even and modulated as she slowly squared her shoulders. Hadn't she learned her poker face in the crib? She could fool one lone man, couldn't she?

"You honestly gonna stand there and waste precious time and energy lying to me, Prentiss?" Dave asked, no judgment whatsoever in his voice, his face carefully blank.

Damn him, Emily thought bitterly. Why couldn't it have been Morgan, or even Hotch, that had shown up at her door? Them, she could have frozen out with the coolly, poised facade she'd perfected over years. Them, she could have fooled. But not Rossi. David Rossi played the fool for no one, man or woman. And, somehow, she knew that he wouldn't go away until he was good and ready.

"Nice," she snorted, deflecting, arching one well-defined brow. "You're calling your injured colleague a liar."

"I am," he confirmed with a slow nod, taking a half-step forward. "Not as a general rule...but about this," he said, gently lifting a hand to her bruised face, "Yes, I'm calling you a liar."

The son of a bitch was calling her bluff. "Prove it," she bit out, taking a step back and resisting the urge to flinch away from his gentle fingers, unable to allow anyone's touch…maybe never again.

"I don't need proof, Emily," Dave said softly, carefully controlling his responses as he felt the anger rising again as he watched her pull away.

"You've all seen the report," Emily railed defensively, crossing her arms over her chest and holding herself tightly.

"I don't need to read the damned report either," Rossi countered soothingly, holding up one hand in peace. "You wrote the report. It says what you wanted it to say and that's your right."

Lips tightening as she tried to read his expression, Emily knew how she must look. Defensive posture, distrustful eyes, aggressive arguments. She was acting like the damn textbook victim, every action predictable. And David Rossi could recognize it at ten paces even if he was kind enough not to point it out. Forcing herself to take a deep breath and relax, she assessed him wordlessly.

"Emily, I didn't come here to bully you into talking about something you aren't ready to discuss," Dave began tolerantly.

"There's nothing to discuss," she automatically denied, mutely cursing herself for her autocratic tone, her words bouncing sharply off the walls around her.

"Yeah, I know," Dave snorted, his well-honed façade fading for a moment. "Everything's in your report, right?" Giving her a slightly reproving look, he shook his head. "Try selling that bullshit to the others, Emily. Not to me. Not tonight."

Her brows drawing together in consternation, she bit her lip. "Can you please just leave this alone and let the others know that I'm fine."

"You mean you want me to lie," Dave remarked, canting his head to one side as he eyed her, easily reading the plea behind her seemingly placid words.

"Yes!" Emily said quickly. "I mean, no," she amended, shaking her head as she realized that she'd admitted she wasn't nearly as okay as she had earlier said. "I mean, I don't know," she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut as tears threatened again. "You're confusing me!"

"I'm not saying anything," Dave pointed out softly. "Just tell the truth, Emily," Dave coaxed, taking another step closer. "Even if I'm the only one you ever say it to. Acknowledging what happened is part of the healing process. I swear to you that it'll go no further than this room if that's what you want."

"Please," Emily whispered roughly, her eyes squeezing shut as a lone tear drop leaked from the corner of her eye. She could feel the hot path blazing down her cheek, but her fingers suddenly wouldn't work to stop the evidence he must be seeing.

Heart constricting in his chest, Dave swallowed past the emotion clogging his throat, focusing on the woman in front of him. Taking a tentative half-step toward her stiffened body, he murmured, "Tears are natural, Emily."

And with a shuddering gasp, the floodgates opened.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: First of all, we have exciting news, my friends! Nominating ballots for "The Profiler's Choice Awards" are ready and waiting for you at the "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" forum. So please, everyone, come on over and name some of your favorite fics and authors. Lets honor our favorite stories and authors on the site! We want to hear from you. Rules and guidelines are also available at the forum and as always, tonnie2001969 and I would be delighted to answer any questions that you may have. Now, let's get nominating! **

**For anyone willing to help us advertise the awards, we've created a short author's note template available on both my profile page (ilovetvalot) and my co-author's (tonnie2001969). We'd love to have everybody's help making this venture a huge and fun success. Please feel free to copy and paste it into your own author's notes and/or profiles! With your help, I believe this can become an annual event that we ALL look forward to seeing. I hope that you're all as eager as I am to see this incredible project lift off. And a very _BIG_ thanks to all the authors helping us advertise these awards! We truly appreciate any assistance you can provide.**

**We also have a new interview for you at the forum with the incredibly talented **_**peace4people**_**. Please join us as we get to know her.**

**Finally, we've added a few new discussion threads for our reader's pleasure. The first is one that will hopefully become a useful resource for everyone at the forum called, "Finding a Beta on Chit Chat on Author's Corner". If you'd like to advertise your beta skills and make yourself available to other authors, please come sign up. We'd love to hear from you!**

**The Second is called, **_**"The BAU Bullpen is Open for Business"**_**. It introduces a podcast run by a couple of our fellow authors, **_**BonesBird**_** and **_**clarebones**_**. Please check it out! And lastly, we have our newest **_**Fortune Cookie Friday**_** prompt available. I hope you all will check these exciting threads out. **

**And don't forget to get out there and nominate your favorite authors and stories. We're excited to hear from you!**

* * *

**Bend Until You Break**

**Chapter Three**

David Rossi had been the precipitating factor in more than one woman's tears in his life. His mother…his wives…hell, even a book editor once upon a time. But none of them had ever reduced him to wanting to cry along with them.

But Emily Prentiss' sobs induced a burning to his eyes, a swelling to his throat and a sense of desperation to his gut that he'd never felt in fifty-four years. And honestly, it scared the hell out of him. Not because he was afraid to cry. Hell, he was as emotional as any Italian he'd ever met; he'd shed his fair share of tears in his life. No, it wasn't that.

It was his sheer helplessness in the face of such despair. In the face of Emily's despair.

Hell, he couldn't even touch her, petrified that he'd do more damage than good. Looking around frantically for a box of tissues, he spied one on the nightstand beside the bed. Plucking a couple from the box, he blinked rapidly, clearing his gaze before he turned back to Emily, pressing them into her trembling hand.

"Th-thanks," she choked out as a fresh wave of tears claimed her. Too weak and tired to even try and stem the torrential wave of emotion, she simply tried to ride it out, wiping at her dripping face periodically as Dave stood silently beside her, never making a sound. "I-I'm s-sorry," she hiccupped, the words catching in her suddenly swollen throat.

Gently surrounding her elbow with the palm of his hand, Dave guided his colleague backwards, softly urging her to sit down on the mattress of the bed. "It's okay, Emily. Regardless of what you might think, tears are a normal reaction."

"N-not for me," she sobbed, reaching for more tissues as she felt a fresh torrent threaten to erupt in spite of her stern instructions to herself otherwise.

"Maybe not," Dave conceded quietly, grimacing at her dark bent head, the urge to wrap her in his arms suddenly overwhelming. "But, sometimes you just need to purge yourself. There isn't any shame in that." Taking the only other seat in the room, Dave lowered himself into a wingback chair wedged between the nightstand and the wall and waited for her tears to slowly abate.

After several minutes, the tears transformed into sniffles and then into the occasional shuddery breath. At last, after, Emily wiped her face for a final time, depositing the spent tissues into the wastepaper basket underneath the nightstand. Lifting her head, she avoided Dave's gaze at first, looking everywhere but where he sat, his form still and solid in the corner. "That's exactly what I was trying to avoid doing," she murmured, half to herself, her eyes focused on the darkened window of the room.

"Crying?" Dave asked simply, his fingers worrying the worn material of the chair, his energy needing some form of outlet.

"Breaking down," she amended throatily. Lapsing into silence, she finally forced herself to ask, "You know, don't you?"

"What happened to you over the last couple of days?" Dave asked noncommittally, his face deliberately expressionless. "I read the report," he shrugged, settling back against the cushions of the chair, stretching his legs out in front.

"No, Dave," Emily whispered, unable to stop now that she had commenced. "You read between the lines, didn't you?" she asked shakily, her fingers nervously shredding another tissue she mindlessly plucked from the box.

"I did. But, as you said, no one, save you, can confirm what I think I know. And, I'm not going to ask you to do that. You will when and if you get ready. I just want you to know that we're here for you. All of us," Dave explained gently. "And I want you to know that if and when you decide that you need help..."

"No!" Emily denied sharply, shaking her head frantically as she straightened her shoulders, her protective instincts rising rapidly once again. "I don't want anyone to know, Rossi. Please! You promised me that it wouldn't leave this room. You promised!"

"And it won't," Dave said with quiet authority, his deep voice assuring her of his oath. "I said if YOU decide that you want help, Emily."

"I don't. The Bureau would see this as a black mark against me. An agent not able to defend herself against..."

"...against a man that outweighed her by at least sixty pounds. A man that had a weapon aimed at you," Dave pointed out calmly, unwilling to allow her to create a revisionist history of any sort. "It wouldn't be seen that way, Emily. But, I can understand your concerns."

"Thank you," Emily whispered, relaxing a little when she realized that Dave was serious about keeping his word. For some reason, knowing that he was on her side seemed to calm the raging demons that threatened to overtake her once again.

"We can find you help outside the Bureau if you decide you need it," Dave said, lowering his voice, meeting her shimmering dark eyes. "All you need to do is say the word. And, I'm here if you ever want to talk. I know I'm not a woman, but I do have a pretty good set of ears."

"I'll think about it," Emily offered huskily, her fingers clenching tightly around the silky edge of her robe.

She wasn't agreeing, but she hadn't told him to go to hell either. And as far as he was concerned, that was progress, he thought with a small measure of satisfaction. Seeing her blink heavily, Dave leaned forward in his seat. "I need to let you get some rest," he said softly, the urge to touch her nearly overwhelming him as she met his gaze with world weary eyes.

"Dave?" Emily asked hesitantly, putting out a hand to stop him. "Would you mind...," she trailed off, her voice uncomfortable.

"What, Emily?" Dave asked softly, stilling in his seat, waiting patiently for her next words.

"Could you stay until I fall asleep?" Emily asked uncertainly, her eyes dropping to her clenched hands, the sheer act of requesting help breaking something deep inside her.

Nodding, Dave settled back in his chair. "Of course," he replied evenly, knowing what it must have cost her pride to ask for just that small favor. "I'll stay as long as you want. Just lie down and rest."

Nodding, Emily stretched out on top of the bedspread, her back to him. While emotionally wrung out, she admitted to herself that she felt strangely safe here with him sitting quietly in the chair by her bed. And eventually, the weight of the past two days overtook her and her eyes finally fluttered closed.

He knew when she'd finally conceded to sleep, her breathing changing from quick and labored to deep and even. Heaving a relieved sigh, Dave dropped his head back against the chair tiredly as he let himself relax just enough to loosen the tightness in his shoulders.

Damn, but she was in for a long battle. With her demons…and with herself. And as much as he'd like to, he couldn't fight it for her. In truth, beyond being there for her, there wasn't much he could do at all.

Except tonight.

Tonight, he had a mission, however. He was her one-man army, sitting in silent sentry, waiting for the nightmares to begin.

_**Finis**_


End file.
